Pancakes
by shewasaflame
Summary: Fluffy FAX one-shot (may be extended into a series if people like it) about pancakes. AU, they're living a relatively normal life (as normal as life gets when you're 2% avian). Rated T.


**A/N: Easing myself back into fanfic writing with a little fluffy AU one-shot featuring Max and Fang. It's obviously a FAX fic. World hasn't ended, they're living life about as normal as it gets when your DNA is 2% avian. Obvious disclaimer: I'm not James Patterson, I don't own anything.**

'What's on your mind?' Fang asks, looking at me from across the room. It never fails to amaze me that in a room full of people all vying to be heard, he can tell when I'm deep in thought. His forehead is creased in concern, he clearly thinks I'm worried about something.

'I want pancakes,' I say thoughtfully, smirking as his shoulders sag.

'I thought something was wrong,' he said, shaking his head and rolling his eyes in exasperation. I can see the makings of a grin curling the corners of his mouth; he's not really angry.

'Nope,' I say, leaning back in my chair. 'Just thinking about pancakes'.

'I could've told you that,' Angel mutters, like she's annoyed Fang didn't consult her about my thoughts.

'If it's all the same to you, Ange, I'd rather find out what Max is thinking by asking her,' he points out, smirking. Angel stares at him blankly. 'Y'know. Like normal people?' he adds with a grin.

'That's so boring,' Angel says dismissively. When she speaks like that, she looks like a little adult – especially when she rolls her eyes. It's hard to believe how quickly she's growing up. I miss the days when she'd sit and play with Celeste. She'll be having make-up and fashion sessions with Nudge before long. I'm not ready for that. She returns to whatever game she's playing, as Fang turns his attention back to me.

'If you want pancakes, why don't you make some?' He asks, before realising what he's just said. 'On second thoughts, no. Why don't you ask Iggy to make some?'. I should be offended by this, but I know better than to be sensitive about my cooking abilities by now.

'Oh, sure,' Iggy says sarcastically. He and Gazzy are deep in conversation, and I don't like it one bit. When they're talking so intently, it can only mean one thing – trouble. Trouble involving explosives, which is like, quadruple trouble or something. 'Volunteer my services'.

'If the alternative is Max cooking...' Fang reminds him, raising an eyebrow. Iggy jumps to his feet immediately, looking alarmed.

'Good point,' he says, and I can't help but feeling a little hurt. Okay, so asking me to cook is a sure-fire recipe for either food poisoning or burning down the entire kitchen, but they don't all have to be so blunt about it. 'I'll make pancakes'.

'No-one is making pancakes,' I say firmly. 'I want to go and get pancakes'. I can't explain it. I need to get out and stretch my legs – my legs, not my wings – and a walk into the nearest town for some pancakes at the diner seems like the perfect excuse.

'We could get crepes!' Nudge suggests excitedly, jumping up from where she's sat at the table. As usual, she's designing some new, outlandish outfit. 'Can we go to Paris? And – and while we're there, maybe we could take advantage of it being Fashion Week right now? Please, Max?'. I shake my head again; why is no-one listening to me?

'We're not flying anywhere, and we're not going to Paris!' I say, as Nudge sits down dejectedly. I hate shooting down her ideas, but flying to Paris is one of the lowest things on my list of priorities right now. 'I just want pancakes. Good old fashioned American pancakes from the diner in town. Is that too much to ask?'.

I expect them all to jump to their feet and agree with me that yes, pancakes sound awesome, let's go now – but they all mutter various excuses about me being "boring" and them having so much to do.

'Seriously?' I ask, raising an eyebrow. 'We can do something totally normal, something normal people do, and it involves pancakes – and you guys are telling me you're too busy? What gives?'. No-one answers me until Gazzy gets tired of the silence and shrugs.

'Sorry, Max,' he mutters, but no-one even tries to offer an explanation. Even Total has left the room. I've even been rejected by a dog. Great. I'm trying not to be petty about it, but it's really hard.

'Fine,' I say pointedly, flopping back down on the sofa. They all guilt-trip me when I have to say "no" to things they want to do, so let's see how they like it. 'No pancakes. That's fine. Whatever'.

They all do pretty well – and by that, I mean that they last about five minutes before Iggy has had enough of my huffing and exaggerated sighing.

'Please, will someone take Max for pancakes?' he pleads. 'You guys might be able to ignore her, but I can't. She's driving me crazy'. I'd apologise, but I'm definitely not sorry. I look straight at Fang, who stares me out for a moment before relenting, marking his place in the book he's reading before putting it down.

'Come on, then,' he says wearily. I know he doesn't mind it really. He's just guilt-tripping me, because he knows it'll work and I'll feel obliged to do something for him in return. If I end up doing all his chores, I have a feeling I'll regret these pancakes. Totally not worth it.

'Great,' I say excitedly. 'I just need to grab my wallet'. I charge upstairs and into the room I share with Nudge. There weren't enough bedrooms to go around. Iggy and Gazzy were happy to share – a mistake, in hindsight, because I have no idea what sort of crazy, explosive experiments they've cooked up in there – and Angel demanded her own bedroom, so I share with Nudge and Fang has his own room.

Nudge's half of the room is covered in pictures she's cut out of fashion magazines. My half is much plainer in comparison, but I like it that way. Nudge calls it "boring", but I prefer "minimalist". There's a pile of clothes, papers and goodness-knows-what-else on the floor, and I know my wallet is in there somewhere. I dive in and start searching.

Twenty minutes later, when I've almost reached the bottom of the pile and still not found my wallet, I realise that Fang is standing in the doorway, watching me in amusement. I pick myself up and dust myself down, trying not to show how irritated I am at being unable to find my money.

'Everything okay up here?' Fang asks knowingly. I try to brazen it out, I nod.

'Fine,' I lie. Fang's eyes bore into me for a moment or two. It's impossible to lie to him. 'No,' I relent, my shoulders drooping. 'I can't find my wallet'. Fang smirks, looking over my shoulder.

'You mean the wallet sitting on your bedside table?' he asks, his eyebrow raised. I turn around and sure enough, there it is, right next to my bed. The last twenty minutes have been all for nothing. I groan; sometimes I amaze myself. How have I raised these kids and kept the Flock alive when I can't even locate my own wallet when it's right in front of me?

'I don't deserve pancakes,' I mutter, feeling like the idiot I am. Fang moves closer, brushing a flyaway lock of hair from my eyes. I need to cut it; lately I've just been pushing it away from my eyes and trying to ignore it.

'You do deserve pancakes,' he insists, the ghost of a smile on his face. I can't get used to seeing him so happy and carefree just lately. Iggy and Nudge say that he's been this way since we got together. I never thought I could have that kind of effect on someone, but he's definitely different these days. He kisses me gently, his hand reaching up and touching my cheek.

I melt at the touch of his hand. It happens every time, and I'm not proud of it. I'm Maximum Ride; fearless and bold – if I do say so myself – and here I am, turned into a quivering puddle of Jell-O by a boy. He's not just any boy, though. He's Fang, my Fang, and I love him.

He keeps kissing me, and I kiss him back, as our hands intertwine and he reaches for the small of my back, holding me close to him, and all thoughts of pancakes are forgotten – until a loud, hungry gurgle interrupts us both. I glare down at my stomach, hissing "Shh!" as though it could hear me and obey. In response, it rumbles even louder. Fang smirks, glancing down at my stomach before raising an eyebrow.

'So... pancakes?' he says knowingly.

'Maybe later...' I murmur, leaning in for another kiss.

We never did get those pancakes.


End file.
